Playing With Fire
by Katie1995
Summary: What would happen if Katniss wasn't reaped again in Catching Fire? What would happen when her sister is in danger of the Quarter Quell? Can Katniss save her sister's life or will this be the last straw? How far will Katniss go to defy The Capitol?
1. The Reaping

**(A/N – I do not own the characters or**_**The Hunger Games**___**in any way, all rights are reserved to**_**Suzanne Collins**_**.)**

**The Reaping**

**Katniss' P.O.V.**

It has been a year since my turn in the Capitol's game. I knew when I stepped off the train back in District 12 that my life was no longer going to be the same. I had denied the Capitol one victor. I had done the impossible. I had fought back. I had done things _my _way.

Of course, I was never going to go unpunished, and surely enough President Snow made sure enough to remind me I was still the pawn in his bigger game plan. But I will refuse him until the very end. I will keep my family safe, and I will defeat him.

"Katniss," Prim drills from behind me, making me start.

I turn around, a small smile on my lips. "Prim," I greet, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and out of her eyes. "Are you all ready my little duck?" A blush stains my little sister's cheeks and a giggle emits from her chest, albeit tightly, as she nods.

I pull her into me and stroke her hair, feeling her body in my arms. Just last week she has turned thirteen, and if I had lost the games last year, her name would have been placed in that bowl of fate twice. Last year was bad enough. But now, my sister was safe. I was safe. My family were safe.

If it were only the same for, Gale. His family weren't safe. Rory was the same age as Prim now, and although Gale was no longer able to be entered in for the Hunger Games, Rory was. Gale had made sure to stop him from taking tessearae. But still, like Prim, the odds may not be in his favour.

I gulp, hard, ignoring Prim's concerned look she shoots at me as our mother calls us outside. Keeping my hand in hers, our neat family walk as calmly as we can to the stage where we face the swallowed faces of our community.

President Snow's face jumps to mind and I visibly shiver although there is no wind. _"Look how__we __take your children__and sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do." _

There are seven seats this year. Three, of course, for Madge's father, Haymitch Abernathy and Effie Trinket, and another four more for myself, Prim, my mother and Peeta.

I knew his father didn't want the attention, and his mother was far too concerned about herself than anything else; so yes, it was just Peeta.

The clock in the town square hits two and the Mayor automatically rises, the dull, pained look present in his eyes like it was last year. The year the girl who sold him the strawberries volunteered as tribute.

He begins the usual ritual no-one listens to; regurgitating the history of Panem, my concentration flitters to the bird that suddenly takes wing from the top of the Justice Building. It's a Mockingjay, well, a Mockingjay to everyone else but me. For Rue is who I can see, and suddenly, I'm gasping much needed air as my lungs fail me and memories come rushing painfully back. Rue's four-note tune lingers in the sudden silence, and I wonder just how it has picked it up? Was it previously living in District 11?

But my ramblings are disrupted as Madge's father continues onto the dark days and how The Capitol had crushed the districts' rebellion. He continues on to why we have the Hunger Games, and how two tributes from every district have to participate to remind us that The Capitol is still in charge of us.

And then after Madge's father finishes, Effie Trinket takes the stage. Her wig is blue this year. The smiles she wears on her lips year after year still not failing her. Of course, since last year, Effie had gained a little more belief in the tributes of District 12. However, this year could cause her to doubt us again.

After all, it is the Quarter Quell this year – the seventy-fifth annual Hunger Games.

Like every previous year, she trots up to the podium, her signature quote booming out from the speakers connected to the microphones. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour."

So far so good. That's for Effie Trinket at least. Her wig isn't going haywire and Haymitch's actually sober today. I guess Peeta had something to do with that.

My attitude has changed about her over the last past year. I know that today she isn't itching for a better district. I know now that she's aware there are fighters among us. Prim takes my hand in hers, a slight gasp emitting from her lips as I comfort her best I can.

"Ladies first!" Effie calls as she walks towards the large glass bowl, absent now from my name.

You can hear as the crowd before us draw in a collective breath as Effie smoothes the strip of paper in her fingers. I look down to our linked hands and wait as she reads the name.

But when she does, I am not prepared. It's as if I'm back in my position last year. Someone's purposely punched me in the chest and I'm falling. My muscles have gone slack and my breath comes in short quick pants.

"Primrose Everdeen?" Effie Trinket's voice falters and she looks over her shoulder, confusion evident in both her tone and eyes.

Prim gets up but I pull her down again, determined there has been a mistake. I demand the strip of white parchment, hoping desperately that I am right. That it was just a misspelt name. But I am wrong, and now Prim's rising from her seat to take her place next to Effie as she stands dumfounded upon the wooden stage.

A voice peeks almost too loudly from the crowd, screaming to be listened to. "I volunteer!" It shrieks as I try to find the voice's owner. "I volunteer as tribute."

And now, I find it. But it isn't a stranger. It's someone I know. It's Madge.

I chased Prim across the stage when she got up, but now as I stand I can feel my legs faltering. A familiar pair of hands catches me and I turn to be confronted with Peeta.

"I've got you," he whispers as I continue to stare out into the audience. Madge is ferociously pushing on - through shocked groups of spectators - towards the stage. As she does, she catches my eye, and I can see the determination in her own wide blue eyes.

Madge's father pushed past me, a strangled cry leaving his throat. "No, Madge, no!"

And then I catch Gale's eye, the eye of a boy who has been so against people like Madge for a very long time. And he's not moving, just staring. I know what he's seeing is changing him. I can see it on his face and I know he realises he was wrong about Madge.

However, that doesn't stop her from mounting the stage.

"Madge!" I call, my loyalties split in two. "Prim!" I finish, standing between my two sisters.

I can see peacekeepers in the distance steadily marching towards the stage as Effie clears her throat.

"The rules have changed," she says. "There aren't to be any volunteers."

I realise then, that President Snow has forced me to comply. There is no way I can get around him. No way I can defeat him. Prim is like a daughter to me and now he's played his last but most powerful card. I am defeated. The Mockingjay is dying, along with the rebellion.

My Mother stands behind us, her face emotionless. She looks hauntingly like she did the day father died.

"They can't change the rules!" I splutter.

"I'm afraid they can," Peeta spits into my ear. "And what makes it worse, Katniss," he continues, "is that they enjoy doing so."

My body begins shaking, not with grief, but overwhelming anger. I suddenly wish I had brought my bow and arrow with me, brought them with me so that I could've shot the peacemakers and run away with Prim.

The peacekeepers take their place on stage and separate both Prim and I, their bodies a white barrier between us.

"And our boy tribute," Effie continues the best she can, "is..." She pauses and I find Gale again. He's thinking the same thing I am. This was planned, and now I am to be punished even further.

"Rory Hawthorne!"

"Damn it!" I hiss as my hands become fists at my side. Gale's face contorts in what can only be described as anger, and I know I'm reflecting the same expression.

Gale wouldn't even be able to volunteer in his place, whether he was eligible or not. No volunteers were allowed.

I was doing everything right. I was playing along, wasn't I? What else does President Snow need from me? Peeta and I were to get married. I was already choosing wedding dresses with Cinna. What else could I do to convince him?

Haymitch sees my distress in my brown eyes and places a hand on my shoulder. His words, however, are not intended for comfort, but for action. "He's not convinced, sweetheart."

I shake his hand off my shoulder and scowl in disgust.

This isn't over by a long shot. No, this fight has only just got started.

**A/N – My first ever multi-chapter Hunger Games story! I am so excited for the upcoming movie that I need to just get this out of my system.**

**Anyways, I'd love to hear what you think so far, so Please Review! **

**Thanks, Katie1995 :)**


	2. The Tributes

**(A/N – I do not own the characters or **_**The Hunger Games **_**in any way, all rights are reserved to **_**Suzanne Collins**_**.)**

**The Tributes.**

**Katniss' P.O.V.**

"Get out of my way!" I screech, grabbing Prim's hand through the gaps between the peacekeepers.

I can feel two pairs of hands pulling me away from the white clad figures and away from Prim, causing my hand to slip from hers. I can see on the screens, now, that she's trying not to cry, but her eyes are swimming with tears anyway.

"Prim!" I call, my vision blurring with anger.

"Katniss," she screams back.

I can feel my throat constricting tightly so that any other words would become squeaks. And finally, albeit with difficulty, I'm torn away in strong arms and carried swiftly off the stage, away from Prim, Rory, Haymitch and Effie.

"Put me down!" I hit my arms against the bodies that bound me until we're in a side street and I'm suddenly dropped to my feet again. I hadn't realised that the other pair of hands holding me back had retreated.

"Katniss."

I recognise that voice. My breathing begins to become regular again as I stare into Gale's grey eyes.

"But Rory." Gale stops me, his muscles tensing.

"Rory will be taught by the best," he retorts quickly, before I push him away and the first but last tears rolls down my cheek.

I turn my back on him and place my hands on the wet back wall of Peeta's baker shop. My breathing becomes heavy and I let my head fall forwards.

"I'm not a teacher, Gale."

"Really, Catnip?"

"Really."

He sighs and leans back against the wall next to me. The bag he had hung over his shoulder falls to the floor creating a soft _thump_.

"You don't think I'm angry too?" He asks, suddenly, the silence ruined by his low, familiar timbre tones. "You think I want my little brother running around in a force field protected arena with just, what, a knife to protect him? I'm as angry as you are, Katniss."

Only once before had our discussions become so heated; it was when we had gone into the woods the following Sunday I had arrived back in District 12. Gale wanted me to know whether my feelings for Peeta were real or not, but I was confused about everything and so my answer was incoherent.

And now, in this back ally, we were at each other throats again. However, this time we are both absent of our weaponry.

"I didn't mean it like that," I start, staring at my feet. "It's just-

"I understand, you know," Gale says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I just wish it were just."

A bitter laugh emits from my chest. "Panem isn't fair."

Holding out his hand, I take it as we walk towards the Justice building. My heart is now in my throat as the white marble building is thrown directly into view. Just beyond those doors, Prim and Rory are sitting in separate rooms, maybe crying, maybe numb. Either way, they're sat there preparing to go onto the next stage to the build up of the Hunger Games.

"My mother is becoming distant again," I state, the fear of her becoming a shell that cannot move scares me and angers me, and although we are living with privileges now, my Mother would become such a state over Prim, that feeding herself would become a problem. "And what makes it worse, Gale, is that I have to teach her."

The Justice Building's doors seem to swallow my figure in their shadows as they creak open slowly to reveal two more identical doors next to each other. One door would lead to Rory, the other to Prim.

"Let's win this," I say.

Without looking back I open the heavy wooden doors. Prim's head snaps in my direction and it's clear she's been crying. It's true what mother says. Healers aren't made for killing. I walk over, my hunting boots the only sound on the dirty coloured wooden paned floors. Without giving her a chance, I clasp her head in both my hands like she did last year and stare her in the eye.

"Listen to me," I say, quietly but demandingly. "You know how to cope with a few weapons. Remember last year I tried teaching you how to hunt?" I ask as she nods her head. "Well, you may have never made a real kill, but at least you know how to. After all, how different can it really be?" Prim winces as I repeat Gale's words from last year. "Roots, plants and berries. You know these things, Prim. Don't be disheartened."

She wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head on my chest. No words need to be said. I know what she's feeling and she knows what I'm thinking. She is going to win this. We are going to win this. "Don't cry, little duckling," I whisper. "Be strong."

We stand there in silence for the rest of the time we have left until a peacemaker shoves me roughly out. Despite his efforts though, I had still managed to slip the Mockingjay pin into her hand. I can hear Prim's frantic calls and my name being shouted out but I'm prevented from going back in. I hear a similar commotion from next to me and I turn just in time to see Gale being chucked out from the room Rory's imprisoned in.

"They threw me out," he hisses in an outrage and slamming his fist upon the now locked doors.

"I'll see them on the train," I reply in a somewhat comforting fashion. But despite my attempts, Gale's still fuming as he walks into the setting sun. Before he gets far enough, he turns back on me.

"I know you'll keep your promise, Catnip," he shouts. "I know you'll keep him – them – safe."

And then he walks away. Gone. Feeling deflated, I let myself back into the Justice Building where Effie and Haymitch are waiting for me, the look on Haymitch's face in indifferent, which isn't very surprising to me. However, Effie seems to be internally fuming. Her wig is contrasting harshly with the red of her face and her petite well manicured hands are curled into fists by her side, one hand around a clipboard she still hasn't written on.

"Are you ready?" Haymitch asks, gruffly.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Yes," I say.

"Write then, let's go."

The Justice Building's doors swing open again and a sleek black car is waiting for our arrival. Its windows are tinted black and it reminds me of the wild cats, Panthers, that prowl deep in the forests that surround District 12. This is only adding to the handful of occasions I've driven in a car before. However, when I get in this time, Peeta's there greet me.

As soon as we reach District 12's station, I stumble from the car and board the train finding my compartments easily. Peeta's concerned for me I know, but I don't want to be reminded of past events right now. Just like last year, I gingerly open the drawers where I find, relieved, that there are "normal" clothes to wear.

I put on some brown coloured trousers and matching top, now absent of my Mockingjay Pin. The train hasn't begun its journey yet so I know Prim and Rory must still not be present. However, that fact doesn't stop Effie knocking at my door.

"Katniss, remember dinner's in half an hour."

I don't answer, but she knew I wouldn't.

"I'll take that as a yes then, shall I, Katniss?" A small smile creeps surprisingly onto my lips despite my circumstances. Effie – the most annoying but likeable person you will ever meet.

"And I don't want any wallowing about, sweetheart," Haymitch adds much to my distaste. "It won't help us win this."

I roll my eyes at the voice coming through the door and sit on my bed so I'm facing the window. The soft winds of summer send a small breeze through the open window above me. It smells like freshly cut grass and roses, similar to what Madge's garden smells like. My compartments burn orange in the setting sun and I know Peeta's on the veranda at the end of the train watching the sun go down. I sigh, placing my hand on the glass. It was here last year the small, bright yellow dandelion, caught my eye. This year was different. This year there were none.

A terrible thought strikes me and the fear I block regularly seeps through me again.

The dandelion was hope. The dandelion was my light.

I feel the colour drain from my face as I turn away from the window and stare at the door to the bathroom. My clothes suddenly feel too tight and hot, so I give into to temptation and let myself into the bathroom. I carefully peel off the matching brown piece and step into the shower. It's still something I haven't quite become accustomed to - just thinking that hot and cold water are available by the touch of a button.

The warm rain loosens the knots in my muscles and relaxes me into a calm state. I enjoy the shower. It's more beneficial than for just washing. I think that's why I save it for stressful situations.

"Katniss Everdeen, get in here, now!" Effie calls rather nosily from outside my door. I can hear the frustration lacing her words as she knocks frantically.

"Go on, Effie," a calm voice advises. "I'll wait up for her."

Effie exhales loudly, but says no more. I hear her heels clicking softly but hurriedly on the carpeted corridor's floor outside.

"You can't hide forever you know," Peeta calls. "You're going to have to face the music some time or later."

I press a button through the blinding steam that has gathered in glass box I'm stood in. It stops the water, and I slip as my foot makes contact with the tiled floor, catching myself on the sink before I fall any further. I grab a white, plush towel and wrap it around me, creeping silently back into my sleeping quarters. The Avox girl is who greets me. Her long red hair is styled in a braid like mine as she holds a green outfit in her arms.

"I have to wear this?" I ask.

She nods her head and lays the dress out carefully on my bed, signalling for me to sit at the vanity opposite my bed. I give her a quizzical look but don't say anything.

"Is Peeta still outside?"

I see her shake her head in the mirror as she combs her fingers through my hair. Satisfied there are no knots, she grabs a comb from one of the draws and starts to equally separate my hair into three pieces. I watch her hands work quickly but effectively as she neatly transforms my wet hair into an elaborate French braid. It arches across the back of my head before trailing off down my back.

"It's beautiful," I gasp.

The Avox girl smiles for the first time since I've met her and it's a nice surprise.

"Did your mother teach you?"

Her smile grows smaller, but she nods in response and taps my shoulders to say I should stand. I comply and stand patiently as she drapes the emerald coloured dress over my head. Once finished, she smiles once more before walking over to the door.

"Thank you!" I call quickly.

I don't know if she has heard me because the door shuts immediately behind her and I am left alone again. However, I run from the loneliness and make my way eagerly to the dining room where Effie sits waiting patiently at the head of the table; Haymitch is on her right and Peeta on her left. I scan the table, but Prim and Rory still aren't there.

"Where's Prim?" I ask as a male Avox offers me a seat.

The plates are bare of food, and the mood's tense.

"They'll be here," replies Haymitch.

I can tell from the way his words are slurring into each other, and the sharp looks Effie throws at him, that Haymitch's slightly drunk. Peeta gives me a tight smile which I return in politeness. After all, how can I be calm when I know in a couple of days my sister and "cousin" could be lying dead in an arena.

The male Avox opens the doors again and there's Prim and Rory, both dressed in the same pale blue. Prim's hair is styled into two plaits that run down her shoulder blades and back like mine. Her wide eyes are searching the unfamiliar surroundings until they find me. Her shoulders drop considerably lower as her muscles relax. Rory is just as alert. Every clink from the kitchens makes him jump as if he's been burnt.

"Come on then, sit down," orders Haymitch.

Neither Prim nor Rory refuse, both taking their seats swiftly as the starter appears. Rory's eyes light up and I know he's not ever been fed this much food in his entire life time.

"Careful there, Rory," Peeta laughs. "The first time I had this sort of food I nearly threw it back up again."

Effie makes a face of disgust but does not say anything. I mentally smirk. If it was anything Effie hated, it was table manners. Talking about such disgusting things at the table would just not do.

"At least," Effie says through tight lips, "you both have table manners like your mentors."

Prim has a smirk on her lips as she catches my eye. I shake my head at her thoughts, knowing that if we did what she was thinking, Effie would probably have a heart attack.

By the time we finish the main course, Rory's tinted green. Pudding comes out, but I advise him to eat no more and sleep it off instead. He doesn't argue with me, instead, he looks like he's struggling to even walk back to his room.

"Need help, buddy?" Peeta asks lightly.

Rory yawns and nods at the same time and Peeta throws his arm around Rory.

"I bet you haven't seen that much food in your life time, let alone eaten it," whispers Peeta in a joking tone.

"Right then," Effie interrupts, "Time for the replay of the Reaping."

In an unspoken agreement, we all rise at the same time and walk without any words into another familiar room. The flat screen TV is currently blank, but we all busy ourselves in making ourselves comfy in the surrounding armchairs and sofas. Another Avox makes an untimely appearance, passing a letter onto Haymitch. I see a glimpse of his face in the flickering light, but I swear my heart stops. It may have been the light and the shadows, but no-one could mistake the contours of Darius' face. Prim is talking to Effie and so does not notice. A sudden glimpse and I become clumsy. The lamp on the coffee table in front of us smashes into ragged pieces as I stand up in a rush. Prim, noticing it was me causing the disruption, looks up panicked. Effie tries to distract her again but it's too late. Prim notices Darius and her cheeks drain of colour.

"Darius?" Her voice is high, but I stop her.

"Don't, Prim," I whisper, taking her hand in mine.

"But Kat-

"Prim, be quiet," I quip back, harshly. I don't want us to get into trouble. She'll understand soon enough, but now I have to be mean to be kind.

Prim snatches her hand from mine and throws herself into the furthest arm chair away from me. I can see she's angry with my attitude because of the tears swimming in her eyes. Another thing about my sister is that she cries not only when she's upset, but when she's angry too. I feel bad for treating her like I did, but she knows I'm only trying to protect her.

"Come on now," Effie says, quietly. "It's on."

I take the arm chair opposite Prim, but she still ignores me. Sighing, I turn my attention to the flickering images on screen. Peeta rejoins us with a small handbook and a pen tucked behind his ear. He sees me and sits to my right, unclipping his handbook and getting his pen ready.

"What do you need that for?" Haymitch is very drunk now, and instead of encouraging, his voice is patronising. "A piece of paper won't help you win this."

"I'm doing things my way okay?" Peeta retorts, angrily.

We watch the Reaping in silence, taking in each tribute from districts 1 to 12. Like in nearly every Hunger Games, districts 1, 2 and 4 – or the Career district as well call them – have already had a lifetime of practice for this moment.

District one is the first to be reaped; a boy, Kobe, eighteen years of age with broad shoulders, sandy coloured hair and around six foot two inches in height. You can see the gleam of greediness in his eyes. The fourteen year-old girl, Vine, reminds me of Foxface from last year from District 2, she looks cunning and sly. I wouldn't easily under estimate her.

District 2: The boy is big like Thresh was last year, and the girl looks very manly. It strikes me how similar they are to one another and I gather they're twins. Both are sixteen years of age and around the same height which is fairly odd. However, I knew both of these tributes would be familiar with most weapons in training and at the cornucopia. Their names are Luce and Orpah.

"How wonderful," Peeta says. "Brother and sister forced to kill one another."

"It's all about the glory," I remind him.

Peeta snorts but says no more, just continues to take notes.

District 3: Both tributes are thin and tall. The boy, Macha, is fairly muscular and only fifteen years old in age, the girl, Fareeda, only 13 years-old in age. I know they can use their bodies in their advantage. Both tributes will be able to fit into places others cannot. People usually don't expect much from this district, but as engineering is what they do, people shouldn't write them off so soon. After all, the boy from district 3 last year proved he wouldn't be undermined.

District 4; another Career district. The girl, Brianna, is eighteen years-old but small. However she's muscular and the odds suggest she's skilled. The boy, about a foot taller than her, is 16 years-old. He's big in every way, and what I can gather in his appearance, would be hard to outdo in hand to hand combat.

Districts 5 and 6's tributes are twelve, fifteen, fourteen and eighteen years-old. District 5's tributes seem reasonably healthy. The boy, Bowen, is 14 years-old and big in appearance. Not tall but... plump. However, he has a scar running from his left brow down his cheek and to the corner of his mouth. The girl, Finvarra, seems bored with the attention she is receiving; unbothered that she is in fact reaped. They don't look dangerous.

The youngest, the girl from district 6, has been crying. I suddenly find it hard to breathe as I look at Prim then back to the TV. The 12 year-old is very petite and looks like she hasn't had a proper meal in years. Her skin resembles more of an unfitting coat that hangs off her bones than anything else. The boy from her district has lost a hand and seems to be a sick from malnutrition. It's understandable both tributes should be like this. Their district is several times larger than ours in population and far harder to feed.

District 7 and 8: The girl from district 7, Malvina, has broad, muscular shoulders. She's very tall and 18 years-old. I know her district is good with axes. The boy, Lennon, holds the same characteristics. He has, oddly, the same grey eyes the people from the Seam have, however, his eyes hold more anger than anything else.

The boy and girl – Nolan and Kyna – appear rugged and downhearted. They're both fourteen years-old and their faces are masked with tiredness, their fingers are crooked from the textile work they do. I can tell immediately than none of them want to be in this place, but they are, and at the cornucopia they'll probably be killed in the bloodbath.

District 9 and 10's tributes are small in size. The tributes are thirteen, fifteen, seventeen and eighteen years old. The oldest, the boy named, Regan, from district 9, has a noticeable limp. It would determine how fast he could move out of the blood bath when they come to it. The oldest girl, Sine, has long flowing blonde hair, similar to Glimmer's last year. Prim gives me a look that says, "Help me." And I know she recognises the similarity to Glimmer.

Finally, it's district 11 and 12's turn. I hold my breath in anticipation as I catch the sight of Rue's family. In response, my world is shattered yet again as Rue's little sister is reaped. I curse out loud, but Effie does not reprimand me. Instead she's sat there, her face white without the help of her make-up. Prim looks at me and I look towards the floor. If it were anything I wanted right now, it was for the ground to eat me up. Her name was clover, and like Rue last year, she was 12 years-old in age.

The boy, Fiore, is a lot like Thresh last year. He is muscular and very tall, easily taller than any other of the male tributes, even taller than the boy tribute from district 1. The room becomes tense as district 12 comes on screen.

It's a lot like last year. You can clearly see the disorder among the crowd as Prim's name is called. Various things are shouted from the crowds along the lines of "rigged" and "liar!" I see myself run towards Prim who advances towards Effie. Next, Madge is screaming to volunteer as tribute and we learn there aren't to be any volunteers this year.

Rory's name is called out next, and then there's chaos and the cameras go blank.

I breathe out slowly, alternating my looks between Peeta, Prim and Effie.

"What have they done?" Effie asks as her eyes flicker around the room in fear of being heard.

Haymitch takes a swig from the bottle he holds in his shaking hand. "They've rigged it, that's what," he spits. "And they want some retaliation."

Peeta's eyes connect with mine, and we both know that if President Snow wants retaliation, he's going to get retaliation. I may be in his games, but he has no idea what part he plays in mine.

**A/N – A very long chapter... I found it fitting to put Rue's little sister in the Quarter Quell because of President Snow's plans. **

**Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed it! If so, Please Review! **

**Thanks, Katie1995. :)**


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